


Me, Myself, and I...'m Disgusting

by queendiana



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-cest, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queendiana/pseuds/queendiana
Summary: This is what happens when someone's a total loser and can also effectively clone themselves.





	Me, Myself, and I...'m Disgusting

A sliver of sunlight leaked between the blinds directly onto Elliot's face, but even this couldn't rouse him in his current state. It must have been late in the afternoon, but he was still in bed surrounded by the remnants of the night before: sketchbooks, candy wrappers, a touch screen tablet, potato chip crumbs, dirty tissues, and a random porno mag that he had recently found wedged in between old schoolbooks and had pulled out for nostalgia's sake. Exclusively for nostalgia's sake. Who actually buys that shit anymore, right? 

He groaned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, genuinely considering the idea of wearing his goggles to sleep to keep out the daylight. Elliot knew he had work to do today, but he really, really didn't want to do anything at the moment. His life had been falling apart lately, and all he wanted was to feel sorry for himself and sleep some more. Also, dreams gave him his most creative ideas, even though he tended to forget them immediately after...

His phone vibrated with a match from a dating app. He squinted at the screen and realized he didn't remember having swiped anyone at all, and he silenced his phone begrudgingly. He would have to start hiding his phone before he drank. Even if he wanted to go out, he wasn't exactly in his best form and would much rather nobody see him like this. Former champion Elliot Witt, fallen from grace into a pit of... corn chips and depression. It was completely humiliating to think of what had happened to him lately.

There was a full length mirror in the corner of his room, and it beckoned to Elliot whose morbid curiosity could not be ignored. He dragged himself out of bed and stood directly in front of it, hands on his hips. The first thing he noticed was that his hair was plastered to his head, unwashed and flat with several days' worth of grease. He could hardly believe that there was once a period when he was restyling it several times per day. Aside from that, his body was looking more, uh... plush? To put it nicely. His round stomach pushed at an old sleep shirt that was otherwise loose on him. As he turned to the side, Elliot noticed that his ass was spilling out of the bottom of his briefs. He felt like a mother of twelve trying to fit into her high school prom dress. He did look a little pregnant, but not Mormon enough to have that many kids. 

Worst of all was the sallow color of his usually healthy tanned skin. His poor, beautiful skin. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and depressed them into his skull. The worry lines on his face aged him ten years. He knew he could pull off a little extra weight, but he just looked _sad_ in the face, and there was no mending that with a little exercise.

The thought motivated him enough to grab his tablet and sit down with it at his cluttered work desk. Lately he was in the process of drafting plans for some improvements on his holo technology. His work was the only thing that had been making him feel good about himself, so perhaps if he tried to work really hard today he would start feeling a lot better. Maybe even take a shower later. 

Elliot felt a surge of motivation and suddenly wanted to plunge himself into some tricky old formulas that he had been agonizing over for ages. _Nothing like a little self-loathing to kick your ass into gear_ , he supposed.

Not to mention that he was on the verge of something, and it was _thrilling_.

Not only were his decoys becoming more autonomous, but he had recently been able to summon them with a solid form. Soon his holograms would not only serve to bamboozle enemies, but to fight alongside him in combat. They could actually  _pack a punch_  with all the power of a whole Elliot, times... some more? He had always secretly worried that his technology wasn’t up to par in light of what the other legends were able to do, but this would be _the_ development to propel him above and beyond his peers. 

He could get back in the game again. 

After a couple minutes of work he deployed an Elliot to the corner of his room, intending to observe and to gauge his development progress. He took a short break to grab some beer and a roll of cookies to munch on while he waited for some easy little experiment ideas to come to him. Unfortunately the penchant for craft beer he’d received while working as a bartender had come back in full force in recent weeks, as evidenced by the empty bottles spilling out of his recycling bin and onto the floor. 

Regardless of whether his research was making any meaningful contributions to society, at least he recycled.

Elliot stopped sipping his drink and glared at his decoy, which was just staring at him expressionlessly while he snacked. “Cut it out,” Elliot said, flustered by its gaze.

Apparently the slang expression wasn’t registering, because it continued to stare. It was smiling a little, too, and shifting back and forth on the balls of its feet. Elliot noticed that the decoy looked better than he had looked in the mirror for some reason. Maybe it was just an issue of self-perception where he automatically had a negative reaction to his mirror image, but not to a separate entity? He did feel weirdly detached from the copy of himself that was currently staring at him with an eager yet vacant expression.

“Hold my beer,” Elliot snorted, and handed his nearly empty bottle to the decoy. Its solid hand held onto the object perfectly. _Yes!_  He wondered what other things it would be able to hold. 

_Not like that, though…_

He snatched the beer away and turned around, suddenly shy again. It’s not like he hadn’t had weird thoughts before. But he’d never acted on them. Doing that would just be admitting to himself that he had hit rock bottom.

Would it not?

Maybe not. Maybe he wasn't that bad. Maybe he was being too hard on himself.

Clearly he had been able to make some strides since his competitive days, so there was a glimmer of hope for him yet. And besides, doing anything freaky like that would be completely excusable in the name of science. _Someone_ had to be the first person to yank on a cow’s nipples and drink what came out. The line between “pervert” and “pioneer” was actually quite blurred when Elliot thought hard about it. 

After a while of this discourse he realized his body was distracting him too much to continue working. He felt sluggish, bloated, and extremely turned on all at the same time. He was aching in a way that almost made him whimper out of desperation. It bothered him how little control he had over his body, but whenever he got like this there was never any stopping it.

Elliot sighed and pivoted his chair away from the desk. He grunted as he sat up to wriggle his sweatpants down his thighs and took his cock in his hand. 

The decoy smirked at him. Still standing there in the corner. Staring.

“Lap it up, you little freak,” Elliot mumbled, rolling his eyes. 

But underneath his snarky facade, he couldn’t have felt more excited.

**Author's Note:**

> Not totally sure if more, but it's obvious where we'll end up going if so.


End file.
